


A Northern Fool and a Southern Girl

by lyn452



Series: Jonerys Week 2019 [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Marriage Proposal, Political Alliances, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 19:13:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19362730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyn452/pseuds/lyn452
Summary: Day 2. North and South. Daenerys burns King’s Landing to the ground as an opening move in her war for the Iron Throne. Jon arrives at Dragonstone with this knowledge hanging over his head.





	A Northern Fool and a Southern Girl

****On the boat, Jon tried to see who was waiting for him on the Dragonstone shore. The only person he knew was Tyrion, whose height was a dead giveaway. His eyes kept drifting upwards, looking for these dragons the Targaryen queen was said to possess. Dragons, he thought. He had always dreamed of dragons and loved stories of Targaryen dragonriders as a boy. But now, he put his awe aside, as all he could think about was the Army of the Dead. The dragons might be their most powerful weapon against them. Jon wasn’t sure he believed in fate, but it seemed to go beyond coincidence that two ancient magics, perfectly suited to combat each other, awakened at the same time.

Sansa thought him a fool for coming here, along with most of his bannerman. He’d even thought about returning to Winterfell when they’d received the news at White Harbor that the Dragon queen had burned the Red Keep to win the war against Cersei before it managed to start. It had set off caches of wildfire, so most of King’s Landing had gone up in flames, but Daenerys Targaryen had her throne, even though she now had to rule from Dragonstone. It was ruthlessness that made Jon pause, made him wonder about all those rumors about the Mad King’s daughter and her monstrous ways. 

But he was battling monsters, maybe having one on his side wouldn’t be so bad. 

The boat hit ground and Jon jumped out, helping to guide it on to shore. His men seemed nervous, and Jon could see why. Other than Tyrion, their greeting party consisted entirely of foreigners, mostly big warrior foreigners with what appeared to be very sharp blades. Jon was a king, so he knew he couldn’t show any nervousness, and he walked up to Tyrion as though they were just two old friends meeting again after a long time away.

“The dwarf of Casterly Rock,” Jon said in greeting.

“The bastard of Winterfell,” Tyrion said in response.

Jon let the smile break through, shaking hands with the man who’d made such a good impression on him when he’d been a boy on the cusp of manhood. He looked up again, looking for the dragons he knew must exist. Rumors aside, how else would anyone be able to burn down a huge city like King’s Landing in a day? 

The thought made Jon harden, as he focused on the pin on his old friend’s lapel. He was in enemy territory; he must not forget that.  

As if sensing the shift in mood, Tyrion introduced, “Missandei of Naath, the queen’s most trusted advisor.” 

The woman stepped up and nodded to Jon. “Welcome to Dragonstone, Lord Snow. Our queen understands this has been a long journey and appreciates the efforts you have made on her behalf. If you wouldn't mind turning over your weapons."

Jon and Davos exchanged a look, having an argument about how badly they needed the Dragon Queen’s help. Why should they trust her when she clearly didn’t trust him? “I don’t know that I agree to that.” Jon put his hand on the hilt of Longclaw. “Your queen is quite bloodthirsty, I hear.” 

“You think your sword is really going to protect you from dragonfire?” Tyrion pointed out with that maddening logic of his.

“Does she plan to take me prisoner?” Jon asked, cutting through the bullshit. 

Missandei answered, “You came here of your own will, Lord Snow. Prisoners are held against their will. You are no prisoner.”

“Yet,” Jon clarified with narrowed eyes.

“You must have come here for a reason,” Tyrion said. “I would have told you not to come here. Your men must have said the same thing. Yet here you are.”

“Yet here I am,” Jon saw the Army of the Dead and the Night King. Here he was, asking for help from the one person who might be able to save them all. He took a deep breath as he removed his sword, his men following his example. Here I am, he thought, a northern fool. 

The King in the North knew this may be his downfall, just as his brother and father had died for going south. But he knew that without the Dragon Queen’s help, all of the Seven Kingdoms would fall. She’d just conquered her new realm, why would she want it thrown it away?

He remembered Sansa’s words to him as he began the climb to the keep. “She just burned Cersei and all of King’s Landing for not surrendering immediately. What do you think she’ll do to you? You’re King in the North. You are just as much as a threat to her as Cersei. Why wouldn’t she feed you to her dragons?” 

Jon had no answer to Sansa’s logic, except that he had to try. He needed her dragonglass and her armies and dragons. He needed her if the living were to win this fight. 

Tyrion’s words broke through his thoughts. “You’re good company here in Dragonstone. Most of the great houses have representatives here, Lannister obviously, the Martells and Tyrells. You have the Vale and Riverlands through your sister, I hear, and are a Stark.” 

“I’m not a Stark,” Jon pointed out. That was the moment that dragons decided to make themselves known. A massive creature flying so close that Jon jumped down to duck the massive claws he’d seen. All of the northerners had followed him, but the queen’s people had remained standing. Missandei was looking up at the black dragon like he was an old friend while Tyrion held out a hand to Jon.

“I’d say you get used to them, but you never really do.”

Jon kept staring. He knew the dragons had to be real, but it was another thing to see them with his own eyes. He guessed it was much like the Army of the Dead. He could talk about them all day, but it was only when you saw it that it became real.

“She burned King’s Landing with them?” Jon asked. He saw Missandei’s glare, but Tyrion looked sad.

“The queen thought the best wars were short ones. She knew where her enemy was and went after her.” Tyrion sighed, looking out in the direction of King’s Landing. “I doubt Cersei would have listened to reason, but she still managed a victory even in her defeat. The dragonfire set off the wildfire spread throughout King’s Landing. There was no way to stop it. We brought as many refugees as we could here, to look after them, but well…” Tyrion looked up at the dragons again. “They were too terrified of her to see her as good.”

Jon looked at the dragons again, thinking of their fire against the dead men of ice. He knew Tyrion’s story of what happened might just be Targaryen propaganda, but it sounded true. A ruthless queen who wasn’t afraid to go after her enemies or just another shit ruler in this shit world they lived in -- was Daenerys Targaryen the first one or the second? Or both? Or something else entirely?

It was time to meet her and make up his own mind. Jon strode forward a little quicker, ready now.

 

* * *

 

Jon was not ready for what waited for him in that throne room. He’d expected a terrifying, larger than life Dragon Queen, not the lovely, delicate woman who still somehow exuded power. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Jon wanted her immediately.

And just as quickly he dismissed such notions. He was here as a king. He had duties and responsibilities and his people were counting on him. This woman, beautiful though she might be, was the daughter of the woman who’d murdered his grandfather and uncle, sister to the man who kidnapped and raped his aunt, and started a war. 

He let Missandei rattle off all of her titles, impressed despite himself. When she finally finished, he shot a look at Davos. The old smuggler cleared his throat and announced, “This is Jon Snow.”

Jon waited for more, but nothing came. He readied a second look when Davos finally added, “He’s King in the North.” 

Was that embarrassing or sensible after the Dragon Queen’s long list? Jon wasn’t sure, but he decided that he would claim it as humble. Jon’s eyes darted to the other noble family members in the room, none of whom looked all that impressed. He ignored them. 

Daenerys spoke, and Jon was surprised to find that her voice sounded like clear silver bells, matching her delicate authority, “Thank you for coming all this way, my lord. I trust the journey wasn’t too hard?”

“The seas were kind,” Jon acknowledged with a nod. He could handle this level of forced politeness. 

Davos stepped in, “Jon Snow is king, not a lord, your grace.”

Jon could see the irritation in her face, but the queenly mask covered it quickly. “I see. So you came all this way for House Stark to break faith with House Targaryen?”

Jon couldn’t repress the chuckle. “Break faith? Your father burned my grandfather and my uncle alive. Your brother raped my aunt. I think faith was broken during the rebellion.”

“The rebellion,” she stood. Jon wasn’t surprised to find that she wasn’t a tall woman, but he was surprised to find her taking steps towards him. “My knowledge of Westerosi history may be faulty, you see, I didn’t have a formal education as we were too busy running from Robert’s assassins, but I believe that the north declared its loyalty to the usurper, Robert Baratheon. Or am I mistaken?”

Damn her, Jon thought. “No.”

“No,” she smiled and Jon hated her. She climbed down her throne to face him directly. “The north pledged its loyalty to a man who tried to kill a baby girl in her crib. My father was a monster, and I’m sorry for what he did to your family, but you’re fooling yourself if you think Robert Baratheon was any better. I will rid this world of evil men and their power over the poor and weak. I will make this world a better place than our fathers left it.”

Jon tried not to be affected by her words, his eyes dodging to Tyrion, wondering if this is why he followed this queen over his own family, but he remembered himself. “And what of evil women?” Jon asked. 

“Do you mean Cersei Lannister?”

“I mean you.”

Daenerys didn’t bother to hide her anger now. “I’m sorry, what evil have I done to you, Jon Snow? I don’t even know you.”

“You burnt King’s Landing to the ground, for starters. You crucified men in Essos, I’ve heard. Fed others to your dragons. Murdered your own brother in your quest for the throne. Is that enough to call you evil?”

Her jaw set. “I don’t need to account for my actions to you, Lord Snow.” 

“No, you don’t,” Jon agreed. “You are not my queen and the North owes you nothing.”

Daenerys turned to glare at Tyrion. “You told me you liked this man.”

Jon was oddly touched to know that the little man had vouched for him to this queen. “I do,” he maintained. 

Jon could see the frustration clearly on Daenerys face, watched as she curled her fist before swallowing her anger. The haughty queen returned. “I didn’t come here to make war with the Seven Kingdoms. I came here to rule them. To take back what is rightfully mine.”

“Oh, then what are your armies for?” 

“Safety,” she replied without hesitation. “Or do you think anyone would have let me stay here, in this place where I was born, unmolested? I couldn’t return home without an army. I would think you would understand that, Jon Snow. Or are you just a bloodthirsty tyrant and Ramsay Bolton would have gladly returned Winterfell to you if you’d just asked nicely?”

Jon didn’t have a response for that. They both knew the answer. War was terrible, but sometimes necessary. “What are you going to do, burn the entirety of the north?” Although, a dark part of Jon reflected, that would at least ensure the army wouldn’t grow if it ever got past the wall. 

“Dragons plant no trees, Lord Snow. They burn them.” 

Tyrion stepped in at this point. “That won’t be necessary. You are no fool, Lord Snow. The north lost men in their war with my father. They lost more when you took back Winterfell. You don’t have the numbers even without dragons to defend your independence.”

All of that was true. “Winter is Here, your grace, and it comes for us all. I didn’t come here to debate politics. I came here because I need your help and you need mine.” The queen looked confused at his words. Jon continued, “I came here to warn you about the Army of the Dead. The true enemy in the north. It comes for us all, to wipe out the living and bring the world into eternal night and winter.”  

“As far as I can see, you are my enemy to the North. Kneel as your ancestor Torhenn did, and the North shall remain unspoiled.”

The King who Knelt, Jon remembered. Maester Luwin had always said it with a sneer, but Ned Stark had said it with understanding. “No,” Jon said. He needed to remain king. He needed to protect his people. “You aren’t listening to me.”

“I heard you, but I learned to ignore madness long ago.”

Jon’s temper finally broke free. “It’s not madness. The Army of the Dead marches towards us. We don’t have time for this. We need every moment we can get to prepare. I need your dragons and dragonglass, and I don’t have time to fucking debate with some southern, foreign queen I don’t know. I’m not going to bow to a stranger, especially when as far as I can see, you’re no better than Cersei Lannister.” 

“You are right, Jon Snow.” The queen said coolly. “You don’t know me and I don’t know you. But I have heard about you from my Hand.” She nodded in Tyrion’s direction. “From what he says, you are no Cersei Lannister. I shouldn’t need to burn you alive as a traitor because northerners have honor and you have sense and can be reasoned with.” Her head ticked. “Though I wonder about that with your Army of the Dead.”

She was close enough that Jon could smell her exotic scent, something flowery he didn’t recognize. He had hoped the queen would be less beautiful up close, but if anything, she looked even better. He stamped out such emotions. 

She smiled lightly. “Join me for dinner tonight, my lord. We should get to know each other better as long as you are my guest here.”

“Guest or prisoner?” Jon asked.

Her eyebrow raised. “That’s up to you.”    

 

* * *

 

Jon bathed and tried to sleep, knowing he would need to be at his best for dinner tonight if he was going to convince this stubborn queen to join his cause. He needed her. He knew that. It was why he was here. But he couldn’t rest, not with this feeling of helplessness. There was too much to do and here he was, doing nothing. Letting himself be held prisoner. A northern fool.

A knock on his door broke his thoughts. Since he was getting no sleep anyway, he stood and called out, “Enter.”

He expected Davos, but another Hand walked in instead. Tyrion looked around the room before closing the door behind him. He cleared his throat and asked, “Are the accommodations to your liking?” 

“Oh yes,” Jon said. “Quite comfortable for a prison.”

Tyrion flinched at the assessment. “You’re not a prisoner. You are free to roam the castle and the grounds…”

“I want to go home,” Jon interrupted him. 

Tyrion sighed. “You came all this way to give up so soon?”

Now Jon sighed. Of course he didn’t. He needed to be here. He needed this queen’s help. He asked a question that had plagued him since White Harbor, “Did you tell her to burn King’s Landing as her opening move in her war to conquer the Seven Kingdoms?”

“No,” Tyrion admitted. “I thought too many innocents would die, even without the wildfire Cersei planted.” Tyrion licked his lips, clearly thinking through his next words carefully. “But her allies, Ellira, Yara, Olenna, and the rest told her to attack King’s Landing first. She agreed with them, saying more innocents would die in a long drawn out war. When I suggested a siege she asked me if I knew what it was like to starve, and how she would never do that to her people.” 

Jon nodded, but he wasn’t sure who he agreed with. He saw the queen’s point but still said, “I think they would’ve preferred starvation over being burned alive.”

Tyrion flinched, looking away from Jon. “She is better than Cersei.” Jon must have looked confused because the Hand explained, “You said she was no better than Cersei. She is. When we got back Daenerys cried. She admitted that she should’ve listened to me. I’ve never saw my sister care about anyone who wasn’t family. Never heard her admit a mistake.” Tyrion looked back at Jon. “Daenerys is not perfect, but she’s good. She protects people from monsters. Ask the others here. Her people.”

Jon wondered if this was manipulation. Tyrion was clever and he’d do well to get the King in the North on Daenerys’ side without further bloodshed. Daenerys was already a foreign whore, an invader, a conqueror, the Mad KIng’s daughter, and the destroyer of cities. She gave the people plenty of reasons to fear her. She needed more allies on this continent. The Reach was her most powerful one, but they were dealing with some rebellion from some of the minor lords  if Jon had heard correctly. The Iron Islands were still divided by two Greyjoy factions. So Dorne was the only ally she had who wasn’t dealing with problems of their own, and Dorne was the most independent kingdom. The Dornish already had their own strange manners, close ties to the Targaryens and were the most foreign kingdom, so no one would see their alliance to Daenerys as much of an endorsement. The Westerlands, Storm’s End and the Crownlands were still reeling though she occupied them, so they were technically hers, but they were mostly leaderless, aside from Tyrion Lannister. So she had the kingdoms that had stayed loyal to the Targaryens in the rebellion and leaderless lands that could rebel against her if someone led an effort, she needed some rebellious kingdoms to return to the Targaryen fold.

The North was a prize she needed. The Starks were known for their honor. If Jon knelt, she would secure her rule, for who else could stand against her? 

“If she’s good, then why must I convince her of the Army of the Dead? Shouldn’t she want to protect her people from monsters?”

“That’s not how politics work. She would look foolish chasing after…”

“Snapes and Grumpkins. That’s what you called them, right?”

Tyrion’s tongue poked at his cheek from within. “I did. Human minds aren’t built for such fantastic things. It’s why no matter how many times I see the dragons, I have a hard time believing they exist.”

“You don’t believe the Army of the Dead exist.”

“I didn’t. But you saw it. Jeor Mormont saw it. Sooner or later you have to start questioning why honest men would lie about it. The simplest explanation is that it’s true. It’s not the easiest or the most logical explanation, but it’s the simplest one.”

“So you’ll help me?” Jon asked.

“I want to,” Tyrion admitted. “But asking for her armies and dragons first is too much to ask. Negotiations sometimes work better when you build up your requests. Start with something reasonable.”

“We don’t have time to neogiate. The dead are coming!”

“You are a foreign king treating with a potentially hostile queen. You don’t get to skip the niceties. Not even if it truly is the end of days.”

Jon knew Tyrion was right. He usually was. Jon wanted to scream. He wanted to yell and curse and demand Longclaw back so he could hack away at something until he exhausted his anger. Instead he thought of something he could ask for, something reasonable.

 

* * *

 

The food tasted funny to Jon’s northern palate. He wasn’t sure if it was a north vs. south thing, or if it was the queen’s foreign tastes, but this food tasted different. He wasn’t used to whatever spices they used to season the food and it made him eat sparsely and drink more than his fair share.

Neither action was wise in light of what he needed to do, what he was trying to accomplish with this Dragon Queen. Jon studied her throughout dinner, trying to reconcile the portrait Tyrion painted with the rumors he’d heard. She hadn’t said much throughout dinner though she was never rude. Sitting next to her in a place of honor, still a novel experience for Jon, he could only observe her out of the corner of his eye. He knew he needed to speak with her. His whole reason for being here was to talk to her. Yet the words wouldn’t come. He wasn’t built to speak with queens. 

Jon took another sip of good wine, an uncommon luxury in the North. He launched into it without preamble, “Your grace, what do you know of why the Wall was built?”

Daenerys raised an eyebrow at his question. She finished sipping her wine before setting down her goblet carefully. “Did you come all this way to question my knowledge of your home, Lord Snow? Do you mean to test me before accepting me as your rightful queen?”

“Does that mean you don’t know?” Jon figured he was a king and two could play at that game.

Daenerys cool look soured and she glared at him. “Bran the Builder constructed the Wall to keep out the monsters of myth in the time of the Children of the Forest and the First Men. Long before the Andals set foot on Westerosi soil.”

Jon nodded. “Is it so hard to believe that such monsters of myth have returned, mother of dragons?”

“Dragons aren't myth. They never have been.”

“But everyone believed them to be gone, just as everyone believed the monsters beyond the Wall gone. How can you witness one magic and reject another?”

Daenerys lifted her wine glass again. “I know much of magic, Lord Snow. Some of it is true and ancient, most of it is mere trickery.”

Jon swallowed his anger and frustration. Why couldn’t she see? How could someone be so willfully blind to the truth? He remembered the long list of titles she held, one in particular, “Protector of the Realm, don’t you claim that as one of your titles? 

“It’s no claim, it’s my right,” Daenerys said firmly. 

“How can you call yourself that if you stay hiding here in your castle?”

Jon was proud to see he’d clearly finally hit on some point of the queen, as her emotions were clear rather than hidden. It took several moments for her to reassert her usual queenly pose. “You are correct, Jon Snow.” His head snapped to her, not expecting the words. “If this Army of the Dead is gathering beyond the Wall, it is my duty as protector to help you.” Jon let go of a long breath. “However, you are also insisting that the North is no longer part of my realm. Why would I help a kingdom in rebellion? Why shouldn’t I plant my armies at the Neck and deal with this army there? It would make more strategic sense.”

Jon nearly growled with frustration. “The Night King’s army would be even bigger if you did that. You’re not listening to me.”

“I am listening, you aren’t making sense. This army is already massive according to you. How many people are in the north these days? 30,000? 40,000?” 

“People would die,” Jon’s temper let loose. 

“Your people,” Daenerys pointed out. “As their king, their lives are your responsibility. Just as I must protect my people, my armies and my dragons. Why would I risk them for an upjumped lord styling himself a king?” 

“My people won’t accept a southern ruler.”

“They will if their king does. Aren’t their lives worth more than your pride?”

Jon remembered saying those words to Mance Ryder. “It’s not about my pride. It’s about survival.”

“And what have you survived, Lord Snow?” She said it as a challenge, but Jon stayed silent. 

She continued to wait until Jon finally relented. “The Wall is harsh place, beyond it is a harsher place. I’ve survived both.”

“Winter is Coming, that’s your House’s words, correct?” Jon nodded, not wanting to point out that he was a Snow not a Stark. “The world is a harsh place, Lord Snow. We must adapt and learn our own measure of harshness to survive it. I’m surprised I must explain that to a northerner, you always pride yourselves on your toughness.”

“Fire and Blood,” Jon shot back. “Is that the world you envision, your grace? Burnt cities and murdered families. The North wants no part in such a world.” 

She looked sad for a moment, then lifted her chin. “I will not apologize for my strength, I’ve seen what weakness gets you. It is only through strength and power that a person can change the world, make it better. That’s what Fire and Blood means, or what it should.”

Jon didn’t know how to respond to that. He looked away from the queen, furious at her and himself for not knowing what to say to convince her to join him. 

The queen took another drink, then she licked her lips before she said, “You told my Hand you needed dragonglass. I will permit you to mine what you need. Any men or resources you need I will provide for you.” She finished her cup and stood suddenly. 

Jon remembered his manners and followed her lead, standing as well. He asked, “You believe me then? About the Army of the Dead?” 

“You should rest tonight. You have a lot of work to do, Jon Snow.” She moved to leave, but stopped to say over her shoulder. “Join me again tomorrow night when you finish. You can keep me updated on your progress that way.”

She left and Jon stayed standing, confused. Why would she give him dragonglass for nothing? What trick was she playing? He finished his own wine and left for his chambers. The riddle of Daenerys Targaryen would keep for another day, and whatever her motives, she was right -- he had a lot of work ahead of him.

 

* * *

 

A routine soon began to form for Jon, he spent his days in the caves mining and his nights with the queen dining. It was tiring for Jon, the hard physical work of extracting the dragonglass and working with men who barely understood him, as well as trying to convince this stubborn queen that she needed to help him. Once when he’d left her presence, he’d ranted to Davos, “That bloody stubborn queen! Have you ever met anyone so infuriating?” 

Davos quipped, “In my experience, stubbornness is a pretty common trait in monarchs. Maybe you can use that as a commonality. Your grace, has anyone ever called you the most stubborn person they’ve ever met?”

“It’s not funny, Davos. I have to get her help.”

“I’m not joking, you need to stop trying to convince her and start talking to her like a human being. I mean, we’ve been here over a week, what do you know about her? What do you think of the woman?”

Jon sighed and sat on a chair in the corner of the room. “I think she has a good heart, despite what she’s done.” 

“Yes, I’ve noticed you staring at her good heart, which means her advisors have definitely noticed. I’m surprised she hasn’t tried seducing you into giving her the North.” 

Jon’s cock twitched at the thought, but he’d learned to ignore such feelings long ago. Thanks to the Night’s Watch it was his first instinct whenever he felt the stirrings of lust. “I’m not going to give away my kingdom for a pretty face. I wouldn’t betray my people like that.”

“Aye, I know,” Davos brought another chair over so that he could sit while still facing Jon. “She glances at you too, you know. She’s far more discreet than you, but that’s not saying much. There’s interest on both sides.” Jon wasn’t sure if that was true, it couldn’t possibly be. Southern queens and ladies didn’t look at northern bastards with anything but disgust. But why would Davos lie?

The words kept coming back to Jon. They had an effect on him, as he invited her to the caves once. She looked enchanting in the torchlight, even as she was being frustrating about bending the knee. And she didn’t feed him to her dragons when he touched her arm without permission. He also let his guard down a bit more at dinner. He still avoided her questions about how he left the Wall, but he opened up about his family, which the queen seemed particularly interested in. She peppered him with questions and never let him be. 

It killed him when he realized that her plan was working. She was wearing him down. 

One day when he’d come in early from mining after he needed to get checked out from a maester, some debris had fallen on him and Davos insisted, Jon saw the line of people leading to the throne room. There were nights when Jon had trouble sleeping, dreams of blades and bleeding out in the snow keeping him awake, so he’d learned many passages in Dragonstone. He took a back way in and looked on in anonymity as he watched the fearsome Dragon Queen hold court. 

She wasn’t on her massive throne was the first thing he noticed. She had a bench brought in so she could speak with the people at their level. He was surprised by this. In his experience, Daenerys was all about intimidation and power. But she acted more like a friendly mother with these peasants. It reminded him of the stories of Good Queen Alysanne and her talks. 

“Your grace, my family was gifted land by your family since before the days of Aegon the Conqueror. The Baratheons stole it when they took the throne and I would like to demand that you return it.”

The queen nodded and asked softly, “Who claims the land now?”

“A bastard named Ammett Waters.”

Daenerys turned to one of her people. “Is he here?”

“What do you need to speak to him for? He’s a bastard and a liar. I told you.”

“Yes, but I would like to hear his side of the story before I make a ruling.” 

A man was brought forward who seemed terrified of the queen, edging back from her even as the Unsullied guard escorted him forward. He spoke with a trembling voice, bowing nervously, “Your grace.”

“This man claims that you have stolen his land. I would like to hear your side.” 

“No, your grace. He...I…” The man swallowed. “It’s my father’s but he...died.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Daenerys said with what sounded like real compassion. “How did he die?”

“He was visiting King’s Landing when you...when it…”  The man broke off, crying.

Daenerys straightened and looked away. Jon was surprised by the reaction. He expected the queen to get defensive not guilty. She turned back to the men, “I know what it is to lose a father, and I’m sorry for any pain your family has suffered.” She turned to the other man. “I also know what it is to lose your home.” She paused before pronouncing, “You will keep the land, Mr. Waters, and I will gift you another tract.” 

The second man bowed with another “your grace” but the first yelled, “I want his land, you stupid bitch.”

Jon watched the queen harden into the ice queen he knew well. “I will forgive that outburst, as you are upset, but that will be the end of my mercy.” 

“Listen, you cunt…”

Before Daenerys could give the order, the Unsullied had taken the man away. Jon continued to watch, for longer than he probably should have. He was surprised by the queen’s patience and generosity, listening to even the most minor of problems. It flew in the face of what he knew about the fearsome Dragon Queen. 

That was the first night he allowed himself to finally give into the attraction he’d felt for the queen since looking at her, spending himself on his right hand. Finished, he breathed hard, staring at the ceiling of his borrowed room, his opulent prison cell, and wondered what in the hells he was going to do now. 

 

* * *

 

“I’ve been talking with Tyrion,” Davos told Jon.

“Why does that not inspire me with confidence?” Jon closed his eyes and fell back on his bed, tired from another day of mining. He tried to calculate how much more they would need. Another few weeks and he’d be ready to go home. But would the queen let him leave?

“We have a proposal.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“A proposal,” Jon didn’t bother to hide his confusion, so Davos explained further. “A marriage proposal, between you and the queen.”

Jon felt several things at once. Hope at the thought of finally getting what he needed to have a chance at defeating the Night King and his army. Lust at the thought of bedding his new wife. Wistfulness, he’d once dreamed of a wife and children as a boy, but he’d given up such things when he joined the Night’s Watch. Finally, despair, knowing he’d never be good enough for her. Even if she was a monster, she was still a royal, while bastard blood flowed in his veins. In the background, Davos was still talking. “You would remain King in the North, rather than just king consort. Any children between you and the queen would inherit the seven kingdoms, possibly with another marriage to a Stark in the future.”

Jon was overwhelmed by it all and he said what he was thinking, “No.” 

Davos stopped for a moment, frowning. “Oh, you have a different solution? Please enlighten me as to why you’ve been holding back.”

Jon didn’t have a solution. “Queens don’t marry bastards.”

“Queens marry kings, which you are.” Davos clasped Jon’s shoulders. “I’ve seen how you look at her, your grace. Would it really be so bad to be Daenerys Targaryen’s bedmate in exchange for getting what you need?”

No, Jon thought. “How long have you and Tyrion been discussing this?”

“Since we got here,” Davos shrugged. “We decided not to come to you and the queen until we had a viable solution.”

“Didn’t want me to dig in against the idea until you had all your arguments ready?” Jon observed. He knew Davos didn’t have a great job, trying to keep Jon alive and dealing with his honor, stubbornness and northern pride.

Davos scoffed. “Please, I got the easy job. Tyrion’s the one who gets to tell the queen he bargained one her kingdoms away.”

Jon chuckled at that. He didn’t envy Tyrion. The king shits and the Hand wipes, he remembered his father saying. His father had never wanted Jon Arryn’s job. But he’d taken it for duty’s sake and it had gotten him killed.

Don’t go south. North men don’t do well south. Look at your grandfather, your uncle, your father and your brother. Jon closed his eyes again. “So her wedding present to me will be her armies and her dragons to fight against the Army of the Dead?”

“Well, I might be able to get you a pretty necklace too if you want it.”

Jon ignored the jab. “What is my present to her?”

“The North’s allegiance. You’ll marry before you leave here, so even if you die, she’ll still be afforded the respect due to her as your wife.”

Jon nodded. He was glad their Hands were smart enough to plan for his death. He didn’t expect to live. He’d cheated death once already. He didn’t expect it to happen a second time. 

 

* * *

 

“You remain king. King of what exactly? Do you inherit all of my titles as well? You’ll be King of Meereen despite never having actually been there?”  The negotiations were lasting hours and Jon no longer wanted to be here, arguing in circles. 

“You want to be Queen of the North despite never having stepped foot in it.” He pointed out. The queen’s eyes narrowed, which Jon was beginning to understand meant she was annoyed at being outsmarted. 

“King in the North,” she nodded, a concession, finally. “What of succession?”

Succession. Jon hadn’t thought of that beyond what Davos had told him. He’d thought of fucking her, more times than he should admit, but not the purpose. Kings and queens were expected to produce heirs. He’d always worried about producing a child, but now he’d be expected to do it. “A Stark always rules Winterfell.” Though he wasn’t a true Stark.

“Yes, but with what title? Would your heir be a prince or a warden? Or even a princess or wardeness?”

Jon had never thought about his children before except as a dream. “I don’t know. I thought our children were to inherit…”

“No, I mean the children of Sansa Stark.” Jon caught the look between Daenerys and Tyrion but didn’t understand it.

“What do you mean?” Jon asked. 

“Your grace…” Tyrion warned.

But Daenerys ignored her Hand. “I cannot give you children. My dragons are my children and they are the only children I will ever had.”

Her tone was as haughty as ever, but Jon caught the deep sadness just beneath the surface of her words. It was the same tone he’d used when congratulating Robb on his lessons on being lord of Winterfell or Arya complaining about Catelyn Stark loving her too much. He was trying to show the appropriate emotion, but his own emotions stirred deep. A question popped in his mind and he asked without thinking, “What’s your succession plan then?”

Daenerys fidgeted and for the first time looked unsure of herself. Tyrion answered on his queen’s behalf. “I think that’s enough negotiating for today. You’ve given us much to think about, Lord Snow. I’ll have something drawn up in terms of arrangements and you can look them over and see if they are to you’re liking.”

Jon looked to Davos, who nodded. So Jon nodded as well. With that the meeting ended. Jon hesitated to leave the queen, but she clearly wanted to discuss his proposal with her advisors alone, so he left.

As soon as they wouldn’t be overheard, Davos said, “You realize this gives you an advantage with her, right?”

Jon had been thinking about the brief look of pain on Daenerys’ face, the crack in the queenly mask. “Hmm?”

Davos sighed. “She’s barren, which is an excellent quality in a tavern wench, but a terrible one in a queen. Part of her duty is to produce heirs, and she just admitted that she cannot fulfill that duty.”

“Why would I care?” Jon snarled. “What kind of man do you think I am that I would hold that against her?”

“Not a man, but a king.” Davos put his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, your grace, but we’re not exactly negotiating from a position of power here. She has three dragons and bigger armies and more kingdoms behind her claim. It’s the only real advantage we have and we need to use it.”

Politics. Jon could feel the headache coming on. Always games and moving pieces, where honesty was a liability. He’d appreciate the queen’s candor, but he was sure her advisors were lecturing her as much as Davos was lecturing him. His heart went out to her, as he fully understood her. 

She might be one of the few people in the world who truly understood the burden of leadership, of so many lives in your hands. Daenerys Targaryen might understand him.

He might not be as alone in this world as he thought. 

 

* * *

 

Jon found her with her dragons. He was beginning to notice it was where she went when she wanted to be alone. He was beginning to notice a lot about her recently. She liked lemons almost as much as Sansa. She clasped her hands together tightly when she was trying to restrain herself. Her eyes danced when she watched her dragons or children play. Her nostrils flared when she was angry. He probably noticed too much about her. 

He approached her carefully, understanding that it was much like when he would speak with his father in the godswood. She’d come out here to find solace and might not appreciate the company. The dragons seemed to like Jon, as much as dragons liked anyone, which surprised him as much as anyone. Tyrion had confessed drunkenly one night that he’d managed to touch the smaller ones and that they seemed fond of anyone the queen liked. Jon wasn’t sure if the man’s theory was just wrong or if the queen actually did like him. 

When she saw him, she didn’t dismiss him or fly away on Drogon, so he guessed she must like him a little. She was petting her largest, most aggressive dragon as most might pet a horse. Jon was fascinated by the action, not just the dragon, but her. This tiny woman conquering and commanding these magical creatures of legend. How her connection with them seemed as strong as his with Ghost. 

“What did you want, Jon Snow?” She didn’t look up at him as she asked. 

“What do you plan to get out of this marriage, Daenerys?” Jon asked, bluntly. He’d been wondering it since Davos first mentioned the idea to him. 

“The North,” she answered just as bluntly. “The Vale and the Riverlands are loyal to your family as well. They should follow where you lead.” She patted Drogon’s snout once more. “Or perhaps Robin Arryn would like to ride around my dragon as the last king of the Vale did with Visenya’s.” She smiled at him.

Jon returned the smile immediately and then clarified, “That’s not what I meant.” One of the dragons, the green one whose name he couldn’t remember, stepped closer to him. She named them after her brothers but was this Rhaegar or Viserys? The dragon was sniffing him, almost like a dog. It made Jon very uncomfortable. Still he tried to put on his best brave face and continued. “I never expected to marry. No noble girl wants a bastard for a husband, and I didn’t know much about being a peasant. The best I ever hoped for was being employed by Robb, but then I went to the Wall and I forgot all about such dreams. I just wanted to know what to expect. What you expect, as I never planned for any of this.” 

The dragon persisted in his sniffing, so Jon acted as he would with a dog. He removed his glove and let the dragon mark him. Then, because he might never get the chance again, he pet the dragon. It seemed to enjoy it from what Jon could tell.

But then his mother said something behind him, that caused the dragon to look to her. “Emagon ao geptot nyke, byka mēre?” He cooed to his mother in a soft voice Jon hadn’t realized the dragons were capable of. He’d thought them giant beasts that roared with fury and little else. Who knew dragons could purr and coo?

He replaced his glove as the largest dragon began to take off, his brothers following. Daenerys watched them with a smile on her face. “They’re beautiful aren’t they?”

“Not the word I would use,” Jon noticed the queen’s glare and so he backtracked, “but aye, yes, they are gorgeous beasts.” Just like their mother, he managed not to say out loud. 

“They aren’t beasts to me. They are my children. The only children I will ever have.”

Jon nodded. But then he asked, “Who told you that you were barren?”

“The witch who murdered my husband,” Daenerys answered. 

Jon’s eyebrow raised. “And you consider that a reliable source of information?”

She let out a puff of air in a laugh. It was the first time Jon had ever seen her smile, really smile. It was a beautiful sight. She might be his soon, Jon realized. This Targaryen queen with her other-worldy beauty and dragons, who seemed more like a dream or a legend than a real person. She might be his. 

She began to walk and Jon followed. “I am a queen. I will and must marry whoever my people need me to marry. When I was a girl I expected to marry Viserys, but he sold me off to a Dothraki khal. I was terrified for the entire wedding and he raped me on my wedding night and many nights after, but even after all that, it grew to love. My Sun and Stars.”

Her voice had turned wistful though Jon didn’t understand why. It sounded awful to him. How could such horror turn to love? Though he supposed no one would accuse his love life of being romantic or conventional. He stayed silent on the matter.

Daenerys continued, “My next marriage was for politics, to settle unrest in Meereen. I didn’t like the man, and I’m pretty sure he hated me, I felt nothing when he died. I took a lover instead, gave any feelings I might have had for a husband to him instead. I felt nothing when I left him either.”

Jon wasn’t sure he wanted to share her with anyone. But still, he remained quiet, letting her finish.

She stopped walking. “I’m not sure what our marriage will be like, Jon Snow. But you seem a good man and king. I have no reason to be cruel or unkind to you.”

He looked at her. “I can promise the same. I won’t be cruel or unkind to you.” He paused and then said, “My lord father loved his wife dearly. It was a political match but it grew into something more.”

She smiled sweetly at him, and Jon felt his heart clench at her focus. “I hope we will be able to say the same some day.”

Jon wondered if she felt it too. Whatever was growing between them. He took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips. Her breath caught and he began to grow certain that she must feel it too. “Thank you, Dany.” 

She tried to hide her smile at his nickname. “Dany. I haven’t heard that name in so long.”

Jon felt a bit special. Or worried that he’d overstepped. “No calls you Dany?”

“Not since my brother.” The light in Daenerys’ eye dimmed. “He’s not exactly the company you want to keep.”

Jon wanted to ask her more. He knew the stories about Rhaegar and the rumors about Viserys, but he wanted Daenerys’ perspective, but a Dothraki approached. They spoke in the guttural tongue Jon didn’t understand. She gave him a sad smile. “I must go, but I’m glad we spoke, Jon.” 

He reluctantly let go of her hand. 

 

* * *

 

Jon didn’t wear silks or fancy clothes. Nothing that suited for a king’s wedding ceremony. He made due with his best armor, which Davos insisted get shined and polished. So while Jon was in his own clothes he didn’t feel like it. He felt like an impostor. He was just some bastard boy, not a king. 

But he pushed such feelings aside, as he went down to the beach for his wedding. He would have preferred to be married under a weirtree, but Dragonstone had none. Stannis Baratheon had removed the Sept as well. So they were following a combination of Daenerys’ peoples traditions using the vows for the old gods. Apparently the Dothraki married outside and while Missandei’s people had no marriage, they sometimes joined themselves to another on their pretty beaches. 

The entire ceremony was strange to Jon, but also beautiful in its way. It blended so many different cultures together. Jon thought he should have stolen Daenerys from her room to add the Free Folk as well. He thought it could be a good start to their reign, to unite so many people together, starting with their first vows as king and queen. 

Daenerys looked stunning as always. Even as they sat at their wedding feast, Jon could hardly believe that she was his wife. The ravens had been sent out and while the wedding had taken place too quickly for anyone to travel the distance to attend, all of Daenerys’ allies sent their well wishes. Though as Jon listened to Davos read them, he thought he could detect the traces of disappointment between the formalities. He knew that many houses had probably hoped for her to find a match with them rather than some northern bastard calling himself king.

Sansa’s had taken the longest to reply and it had been the coolest. Jon knew he would face an uphill battle in the North despite not having bent the knee and gaining the support he’d come down here to secure. 

Before long there were calls for a bedding, Daenerys had refused at first, but Tyrion had insisted, arguing that Westeros needed some tradition they recognized, especially as they had allowed the King’s Landing refugees and people of Dragonstone to attend. They wouldn’t understand the ceremony itself, as they weren’t northerners, Dothraki or from Naath, so they would need something they recognized. Jon was as reluctant as the queen, but he’d also understood Tyrion’s argument and agreed as well. 

So now he was being ushered to the queen’s chambers as strange women groped at him and tore at his clothing. His many layers meant that Daenerys was naked long before him, but Jon didn’t even look at her. He was more annoyed by the liberties too many women took with his body as they removed everything. He hadn’t realized just how awful this practice was. As a bastard he wasn’t expected or allowed to participate in such a thing.

He was relieved when he made it to the bed, ducking under the sheets as soon as he was able. Daenerys was already there. Most of the drunken revelers left laughing once the king and queen were in bed, but a few stayed, staring, until Tyrion ordered them out. 

Jon stayed where he was until they all cleared out. He wasn’t quite sure how to proceed from there. He’d never attended a bedding, so he just stayed in the bed, awkwardly glancing at Daenerys who seemed as lost as him. Finally seeming to come to a decision, Daenerys hoped out of bed to go to her side table to fetch them both some wine. 

Jon’s eyes traced over her naked body, taking in every bit of her. She was just as gorgeous nude as she always was, better than he’d imagined. She chuckled when she saw his look, and brought him back a glass, sitting on the bed. Seeing her in front of him, Jon began to blush at being caught staring. “Casual nudity isn’t really a thing in the North, is it?”

“No,” Jon confirmed, still hesitant to let the sheet drop.  He was in no mood to explain his scars. But he readjusted as he took the wine meant for him. “It’s too cold.” 

Daenerys nodded, taking a sip. Jon followed her lead. “In Meereen there are styles that have women exposing their breasts. It’s commonplace there.” She looked down at herself and shrugged. “I guess I got used to it.”

“How do the men get anything done?” Jon asked, mostly to himself as he finished his wine.

Daenerys smiled, taking her empty glass and Jon’s and setting them on a side table. The wine had done its job, Jon thought, he felt more relaxed now. “It’s commonplace for the men too. I imagine there are some breasts men don’t want to see.”

Jon looked at Daenerys’ breasts. Those were his wife’s breasts he thought. Mine he thought. He leaned forward, letting the sheet drop as he took a nipple into his mouth. Daenerys gasped, her hands combing through his hair as Jon suckled her. As his tongue traced one nipple, he brought his hand up to play with the other. He switched when he thought it time. 

Unknowingly, he was pushing Daenerys to her back with his ardor, but when he found her beneath him, his arms encompassed her as he moved to kiss her mouth. Since he was already hard and they were both naked, he thrust into her. That’s why they did a bedding, he realized. Sex was easy to fall into when you were both already nude.

Daenerys let out a cry at the intrusion, causing Jon to stop. His eyes searched for hers and his breath caught when he finally saw her violet orbs. He could swear he saw love in them. It made his heart swell. Could she love him? Did he dare hope?

He thrust forward again and her moan encouraged him to keep going. Part of his mind screamed for him to slow down, but it had been too long since he’d felt the warmth of a woman. And no woman was as warm as this one. Fire made flesh, they said of the Targaryens. He believed it. With her in his bed he imagined he would never be cold again.

It didn’t last long enough for him. Desperate for her to find pleasure too, he brought his hand down to look for that little button at the top of her cunny. Daenerys guided his fumbling fingers until her moans turned to screams. Jon’s thrusts got harder and faster, and for the first time, with the Dragon Queen screaming for him, he felt like a real king. 

It was over soon after that for both of them. He collapsed on top of her briefly before rolling off. She moved to cuddle with him when she finally noticed his scarred chest. Jon had forgotten about them. 

Her fingertips traced the gash over his heart, “What happened to you?”

Jon closed his eyes. “A mutiny. At the Wall.” He wasn’t ready to explain more than that. 

Daenerys seemed to understand and didn’t press for more information. She hugged him instead. They lay like that for a moment, not exchanging a word. 

She was the one who broke the silence. “I think it might be our marriage too.” 

“What?” Jon asked. 

Daenerys sat up to look at him properly. “I think I could love you, Jon Snow. I think we could be happy."

Jon sat up and leaned forward, kissing her properly. It didn’t take long for it to deepen and turn passionate. It took even less time for him to recover from their first coupling to be ready for another. 

Then he found out why Daenerys Targaryen was a khaleesi, one of the best riders on all of Planetos. 

 

* * *

 

Jon sent the raven to Sansa to announce their imminent arrival. Boarding the boat to go home, he felt lighter than he had in years. He’d done it. He’d gotten the weapons, the armies and the dragons to fight the Night King and his Army of the Dead. 

He’d gotten a wife too. A southern girl would probably freeze up north. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. An intelligent, fierce queen with a good heart who birthed dragons. A woman the bards would sing about for centuries for good and bad, if not longer, and she was his.

It had been so long since Jon had felt hope or happiness, he almost didn’t recognize the feeling. But as he boarded the ship where he would share quarters with his wife every night as they planned for the Battle for the Dawn during the day, he knew that was what thrummed throughout his chest. 

For the first time he really thought maybe they could win. 

**Author's Note:**

> Valyrian translation:
> 
> Emagon ao geptot nyke, byka mēre? - Have you left me, little one? 


End file.
